Masterpiece
by Godly Apple Juice
Summary: Which an Artist fell for a painting, a figment of his own imagination.


Masterpiece

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Hetalia, or its characters.

_This story is also unedited. (It's two o'clock in my time, and I am sick…EXCUSES.)_

**A/N:** …I don't like this story; I just made it on whim because I am attempting to take down my Writers wall. For awhile, I couldn't bring myself to write _anything_, well, at least not without deleting it. So, in futile attempt, I just decided to write. Just,.._write._ In which I did, so I just winged most of this story. Which an Artist fell for a painting, a figment of his own imagination… Please review, tell me what you think, I don't care if you don't like it, or like it, or _anything!_ Just review, the opinion does not go unnoticed.

Enjoy.

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Dead leaves were scattered on Antonio's porch, and he stepped over them to get to his door. With a heavy sigh, he pushed the door open with a slight nudge of the wrist, smiling when he stepped inside the interior of his home. He liked coming home; it was all very homey to him. The smell of paint, the stale coffee, and the dewy sunlight that greeted him every time he came home just made his heart swell with joy.

Antonio Fernandez Carriedo was the type of person who shrugged off the bad stuff, and acted like all those drama people seemed intent on dragging him into, didn't affect him at all. In all reality, it did affect, at least a little bit. It weighed down his heart, gathering in the pit of his stomach until he felt sick. His friends suggested taking up a hobby, something to get his mind off of stuff. So he did, and he chose painting.

God, he was glad he chose that hobby.

He had been painting for a few years, throwing every emotion he ever felt into the painting. Usually, he'd forget about the paintings he painted, either selling them off, or leaving them in the closet. But one day, he came home, angry and hurt, sad and betrayed; he created a masterpiece that he loved to look at.

Grabbing a tomato from the fruit bowl, going through the kitchen, he took his time to take off his jacket while humming some catchy tune he had heard on the radio. Biting into the juicy tomato, he made his way into the room right next to the kitchen, the sunset shining light on his art workroom. He smiled at the different small portraits of indifferent things, but his eyes came to rest on his masterpiece, his small smile breaking out into a loving grin.

His masterpiece, the portrait showing a painting of a mere boy, his _Lovino_, was sitting at the head of the room. Ah, how Antonio loved to just sit and eye up his masterpiece, for truly it was a beauty. Lovino, Antonio had named the boy in the painting, was just sitting on a stool in a lonely kitchen, a cute pout on those fleshy lips. His eyes were darted away from the viewer's point of view, as if embarrassed about something, refusing to meet the worlds on looking eyes. His hair, like burnt cinnamon with shades of amber and chocolate, looked soft to touch.

Antonio felt his heart beat in his chest; hear it in his ears, as he smiled at his Lovino. "Hola, Lovi!" He greeted the painting, even though he knew it might seem just a _bit_ crazy to do so. But he was the only one who lived in the house, so what's the point of trying to hide him talking to his Lovino? "Today, at the café, there were a lot of people! All of them were very impatient, but luckily, I didn't have to deal with most of them!"

Antonio laughed, and sat down in his chair. He leaned back, a smile on his face. "So, Lovi, how was your day?" He asked, taking another bite of tomato as he waited for his Lovi to answer. When Lovino didn't, he glanced at the painting. "Hm? Something wrong?" Antonio's eyes trailed to the tomato in his hands. "Oh! I didn't get you one, didn't I? How foolish of me! Here, lemme just go-"He got up to get Lovino's another tomato, when a voice stopped him.

"Wait! Dammit, don't leave!" Antonio smiled, smug and happy, and he turned back to find Lovino pouting at him, his arms crossed as he glared at the man. "I waited all day just to see you, and then you just go around and leave? I hate you!" Lovino glared, his eyes searching Antonio's, who only laughed.

"I'll never leave you alone, Lovi~" Antonio cooed, before taking Lovino in a hug. "I missed you." He muttered into the stuttering boy's hair, his hand caressing Lovino's back through the plain shirt Lovino always wore.

"S-shut up! I'm still mad at you for attempting to leave me, you bastard!" Lovino said into Antonio's chest, while he tried to push away the elder for hugging him without permission. "Stop hugging me, dammit!" Antonio hummed his opinion, still hugging the vainly struggling boy flush against his form.

Antonio loved doing this every day, holding his Lovino. His Lovino, his beautiful Lovino, who flushed _tomate _red when he felt strongly about something, his fiery eyes always (_always_) betraying how Lovino felt, so Antonio always knew what Lovino was feeling. If Antonio wasn't ignorant of his own feelings, he would have said that he loved Lovino with a passion so strong that it ached and rocked his entire core. He really couldn't say when he fell for Lovino, all he knew is that he will never, ever, _ever_, let his Lovino go, or let anyone get in between his and Lovino's love.

Sitting down, Antonio pulled a flushed Lovino onto his lap. "Here, Lovi!" He gave his Lovino the rest of his tomato, Lovino growing redder as Antonio handed his tomato over to Lovino, placing it in his hands. "So I don't have to go and get you another one." Lovino said nothing, refusing to say anything, but he ate the tomato anyways, avoiding Antonio's eyes.

Antonio was perfectly content with just watching his _amor; _his eyes taking in everything on Lovino. He frowned, realizing he wanted to do more than just shower his love in kisses and hugs, but knew he would never obtain what he craved.

As crazy as Antonio knew it was to love his painting, his _Lovi_, to talk to him every day, to kiss and hold him, he just couldn't help himself. He had once tried to ignore Lovino, but resulted in Lovino crying and angry at Antonio, who only held him and kept on muttering _Lo siento, mi amor _over and over in Lovino's ear. It took awhile for Lovino to forgive and trust him again; Antonio didn't want to go through that ever again.

His love for Lovino was strong, but something felt off. Don't get Antonio wrong, he just _knew_ he'd never stop loving his Lovi, but he couldn't help but wonder at how strange it felt to love him. Every fluttering kiss, every soft hug, Antonio couldn't point out how what was wrong with them, except there _was_ something _wrong._

In the end, Antonio ignored the strange feeling, and pressed a soft kiss against Lovino's neck, making his Lovi squirm around in Antonio's lap. He smiled, Lovi's breathing shorting some. As much as he loved making Lovi squirm, and pant, to flush red, he knew he needed to go to sleep soon.

"I'm sorry, my love," He whispered, his hand stroking Lovino's back. Lovino looked sharply at Antonio, a frown appearing on his usually pouting lips. "But I am going to have to go to sleep soon." Lovino's eyes widened, before he clung onto Antonio.

"No, no, no." He cried, shaking his head violently. "Don't leave; I hate it when you leave." Antonio smiled sadly, nuzzling Lovino as he slowly stood up much to Lovino's chagrin. Pushing Antonio away violently, he glared, tears forming in his eyes. "Fine! Leave! I don't care! Fuck you! I hope you never come back!" His voice was thick and breaking. His Lovino turned away from him, Antonio knew, to hide the tears.

Antonio hugged Lovino from behind, whispering softly. "I'll be back, you know this. Right?" He didn't wait for a response. Antonio sort of had a feeling he wouldn't get one anyways. "So don't cry, si? I'll be back tomorrow, then the day after that…forever and ever." He promised, nipping at Lovino's neck.

"…" Lovino didn't say anything, still glaring at the floor. When Antonio was afraid that his Lovino was actually really mad with him, he replied. "…You promise?" His voice was still thick with emotion, and Antonio felt relief flood in his veins.

Turning Lovino around, Antonio quickly gathered up Lovino's hand, kissing each individual finger. Lovino stuttered, his eyes still soft and vulnerable with unshed tears, and Antonio smiled brightly at Lovino. "I promise." Lovino stared in Antonio's eyes, before he glanced away, jerking his hand away.

"F-fine. Go…but hurry back…" Antonio smiled; his heart breaking as he exited the room. He could feel Lovino's eyes watching him as he left, but he mentally kept on repeating those words to comfort him as he headed upstairs to get ready for bed.

_I promise, Lovino, I'll be back, forever and ever and ever! _

Antonio smiled happily.

….

Gilbert stepped from his hiding place, from the shadows of Antonio's kitchen. He stared at the direction in which Antonio left, as he debated whether or not he should be utterly shocked, or disturbed at what he just witnessed.

Antonio had been acting strangely for some months now, his usually happy and loud mouthed routine dying down to him just staring dreamily outside a window, whenever Gilbert or Francis attempted to take him out of his house for awhile. Soon, he just denied every attempt to go out, insisting that he needed to hurry home.

Gilbert had to make sure his friend was alright, worrying about his friend's behavior. When he walked in, he heard Antonio talking to someone. Sneaking up to the doorframe of Antonio's art workroom, he peaked in on Antonio laughing at some painting of a boy. He watched as Antonio made a promise, laughing and smiling, a gleam in his eyes that said that he wasn't exactly all _there_.

He was quick to hide when Antonio walked back into the kitchen to head upstairs. Now, Gilbert felt remorse for his friend, guilt at not noticing sooner. A grimace was on his face, as he slowly made his way from his friend's house. When he reached the porch, Gilbert pulled out his cell phone. Calling the person he needed to tell right away, it rang a few times. Finally, when the person finally answered:

"…Francis? Yeah. Antonio, dude...he needs help." Gilbert remembered Antonio laughing at _nothing_, but the painting, calling it _His_ Lovi, or Lovino. Gilbert sighed. "He needs help bad."

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_Review (Please?), favorite, or whatever you do on stories that you read._

_-_BMTM


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